Roses Are Red
by johnegdorkable
Summary: Flowershop AU where Dave is allergic to some flowers in the shop below his apartment. In an attempt to discover which type, he begins buying different flowers only to realize that one of the empolyees at the shop is really cute. JohnDave


**A/N Hey everyone, sorry I haven't been active in a long time. I've been crazy busy with school! I'm trying to get back into fanfic writing so hopefully this will go well. Hope you guys like this, I'll try and update soon!**

Your name is Dave Strider and holy shit do you have a problem.

We aren't talking about something little like "oh no I spilt my drink oh dear", no we're talking about a problem that would be the approximate size of Texas. Or maybe even the size of Jupiter? Yeah, Jupiter. That's a lot more intense. Your problem is a whirlwind swirly thing just like that never ending hurricane thingy on Jupiter. That's a thing right? You watched some documentary on Jupiter in the middle of the night once and you're pretty sure they mentioned this hurricane thing. Or maybe the documentary was on New Orleans? What were we talking about again? Oh yeah, your problem!

The problem? It's where you live. You live above a flower shop. The building is three stories tall in the middle of downtown. The first floor is the flower shop, the second is an apartment that you have doubts that anyone even lives in, and the third is your apartment. You have an open concept living room and kitchen, a bathroom, a laundry room, and two bedrooms; one being yours and the other being the place where you throw all your useless shit and dirty clothes. You've also go a pretty cool view and a sweet gaming system. Your place is nice, you don't have too many complaints about it. Well, actually, you have a pretty big complaint right now, which is your current Jupiter sized, hurricane included, problem.

The only way to get to the street from your apartment is a staircase that goes all the way down the building and ends beside the door to the flower shop. The exterior of the shop often has flowers hanging, and you didn't have a problem with this for a while because flowers are cool. Plus it makes your place look less shitty having all those flowers hanging out front. Last week, things changed a little for you when a new shipment of flowers came in. That sounds so incredibly interesting, no sarcasm what so ever. "How does it pertain to you?" one might ask if they were listening to your increasingly over dramatic and drawn out build up to your problem. Oh, well thanks for asking listener, it pertains to you because you are allergic to one of the flowers in the latest shipment. The problem? The owner bought a fuckton of new flowers and you have no idea which type your allergic to. Just walking into the shop sends you into a sneezing fit. You're thankful that you always wear your hella cool shades because the flower also makes your eyes go all red and itchy. Trust, you're not high, you just have allergies. What is your current solution for this well scented predicament? You've decided to begin buying a bouquet of different flowers each day to see what one you're allergic to. Foolproof.

Today is day one of your foolproof plan™ . There are definitely no flaws what so ever in your plan. You walk down the stairs from your place to the shop, leg day! And by leg day, you mean, fuck your calves are burning and you are out of shape despite your misleading lanky shape. Why did you rent an apartment on the third floor? Its excessive every time you want to come or go. You finish your daily inner monologue on your hatred of stairs as you reach the shop. Aww, look at all the pretty flowers. You see lots of reds and blues. Can a flower be blue naturally? You don't know. Maybe they've been artificially dyed. Fucking fake hipster flowers.

You stop insulting the flowers, walk into the shop and count to three. One. Two. Thre – _achoo!_ Like clockwork, there it is. Looking around the room, it dawns on you that you've never actually been in this place. Hell, the only way you new they got a new shipment is because you saw the big ass truck with _Harley's Flowers_ scrawled on the side pull up on the street like it does every 5th of the month. This place is actually pretty cute. Hanging pots adorn the ceiling, a cash register on an island is at the far wall, stands of colourful and decorative pots stand to the left of you, and maybe two dozen different planted flowers are to your right. Crap. You didn't think they'd have so many flowers. You realize that was fairly stupid as this is a _flower_ shop. You're an idiot. A well dressed idiot, but still an idiot. Also, being the idiot you are, you realize that no one else is currently in the shop and you've never bought a bouquet before. Those are the flowers wrapped in pretty cellophane, right? Right. Well, its just a great thing that you see exactly zero flowers wrapped in cellophane. Foolproof plan™ is already having some problems. Fuck. Time to revise.

Walking up to the flowers, you brace yourself for the sneezing fit that you know will inevitably ensue in a matter of seconds. Reading the first tag you can, you grab a pot of marigolds. These are pretty. They're nice and bright and yellow. You hold the pot a bit away from you as you sneeze a couple of times. Could this be the culprit? Really, being in a room full of flowers, you're not sure if its safe to say. You take the possibly devilish flower pot to the cash register and ring the little silver bell which you assume is to be rung for service. You're assumption is correct as you hear movement and a door you hadn't noticed behind the register swings open. A pleasantry that was forming gets caught in your throat as the person walks through the door.

Oh god. Oh god, they're _cute._ You did not plan for this. This was not in the blueprints at all.

"Hi, how may I help you?" says the cutie. He's a bit shorter than you, has fair skin, messy black hair, glasses, enticing blue eyes, and the cutest fucking over bite you've ever seen. He's wearing a black and blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark jeans. Fuck. He's cute. And you need to respond. Soon preferably, so that he doesn't brand you a drooling creep staring at him. Shades to the rescue on the staring part, and you're not drooling just yet. You're a big boy, you can do this.

"Hi, yeah, um," fuck fuck fuck fuck. You can do this just say you want to buy these stupid fucking flowers. "I'd like to buy these marigolds." Bingo. Gold star for you Dave, you just said a sentence!

"Oh, yeah, I should have realized!" The cutie laughed. Oh fuck he's cute. "That will be $6.99." You pull out your wallet and hand him a ten dollar bill in your smoothest way possible, also the only way possible. He rings through the purchase, hands you your change and receipt, and says for you to have a nice day. "Uh, thanks. You too." You say nonchalantly as you turn on your heel and head out.

"Um, sir." You hear him say, "You forgot your flowers." Fuck. That was almost so cool.


End file.
